Drawing A Blank
by Clarity24
Summary: It's Dave's first day of high school when a tragic accident happens that could change his entire life.
1. Chapter 1

_Enter name_

**Insufferable Prick**

Really? Wow. Real mature. You don't have time for that kind of thing.

_Try again._

**Dave Strider**

That's more like it.

Your name is Dave. You are cool. Unreasonably cool. So cool that people have to wear a coat when you're around so they don't freeze from your coolness. It's a warm day in August, which is expected. Your window is open and your fan is cranked up as high as it can possibly be. You can't lose your cool. Ever.

Scattered around your room are photographs. You are an amateur photographer, which you don't consider to be part of your irony. You actually enjoy it, despite everyone's beliefs. You would explain to them you actually do like photography, but you don't want to sound lame.

You're laying in bed half asleep, knowing you have to get up soon or your brother will shove a plush rump in your face again. Or worse, pour a bucket of ice cold water on your head. That was _not_ a fun morning at all.

Your alarm clock starts playing some sick beats you mixed previously during the summer on your turntables. Best alarm ever, hands down. You don't bother to turn it off. You stay under the covers with your pillow on top of your head. Your fan is blowing cool air directly onto you, but you're still freaking hot. You poke one of your legs out from under your red blanket. That definitely makes a difference.

The song is almost over when Bro comes bursting into your room holding Lil Cal. He flashsteps over to you like the ninja he is and replaces your pillow with the stupid puppet. You take the puppet and throw it at him, but he snatches it out of the air and pops in front of your face.

"Wake up Lil Man. You gotta go to school today." He says. You sit up in bed and rub the sleep out of your eyes underneath your sweet shades. You never take those off. Ever. Not even when you're asleep.

You groan and reluctantly get out of bed, still rubbing at your eyes. You stumble into the kitchen and open the refrigerator. Before you know it you're lying on the floor buried in a pile of smuppets. Darn Bro and his antics. You can't believe you used to actually _like_ those nasty plushrumps out of pure irony. Now you understand they aren't ironic at all. They're terrifying and disgusting.

You decide you'll ask Bro where he put the juice later. There's no way you're leaving this house without your signature drink. It's not going to happen.

You go into your bathroom and splash cold water on your face to try and wake up. Your eyes remain tired, but your red t-shirt is now covered in the liquid. Great. You take it off on your way to your room and toss it on your bed.

You pull your broken record shirt over your head. You aren't used to the one with short sleeves, but when it's this hot outside, wearing long sleeves is stupid. You wouldn't even wear long sleeves for the irony in this heat. You comb your hair out of its previous messy state and look at the clock. Good, there are a few minutes to spare.

There's a strange feeling rising in the pit of your stomach. It wasn't so bad the day before, but now it hurts like heck. This doesn't usually happen, but today is different. You flop on your bed and stare up at the ceiling though your shades. The feeling doesn't go away. Luckily it isn't a nauseas feeling. This is an emotion you rarely experience, and you hate it.

You finally admit to yourself that you are nervous. You won't know anybody due to the fact your brother decided to get a serious job last spring, so you had to move into this apartment. You hope you'll make friends soon enough. Who doesn't like a cool guy?

You know you aren't the most social person in the world. You like to keep to yourself and never let your emotions overflow unless the circumstances are extreme. Opening up to others is definitely not your thing. You won't even do it for the irony.

You rub your tired eyes yet another time. You aren't a morning person. Never have been and never will be.

"Dave."

Suddenly your brother is there in front of you. He is such a ninja.

"Sup." You nod at him casually.

"The bus is here, that's what's up. Come on, you don't want to be late." Bro flashsteps again, placing a smuppet in your lap and leaving just as quickly. You push the smuppet aside and leave your room with your bulging backpack. You leave the fan on to save you the two seconds it would take to turn it on when you get home.

You pause before you walk out the door of your apartment. You consider taking the stairs to drag out the time, but you were warned. Besides, you don't plan on busting your skull open yet another time on those things. That wasn't a good experience. At least, that's what you heard. You got a pretty bad concussion, so you only remember waking up in a hospital bed multiple times in extreme pain.

That would explain why you get terrible headaches sometimes from the weirdest things. You hate it when Bro makes toast because the sound of the toaster makes your skin crawl and your head throb. Stupid concussion. Stupid stairs. Yeah, you're definitely going to take the elevator.

"Dave?"

You return to reality and realize you're still staring at the door with your hand on the knob. You can feel the presence of your brother standing behind you, and it makes you uneasy. You close your eyes and inhale deeply.

"What." You respond.

You detect the hesitation before your brother speaks. You can tell he's worried about you. You hate it when he does that.

"You forgot your apple juice." He holds out the bottle of deliciousness in your direction. You turn around and take it from him, nodding your thanks. You don't say it very often, but you really do love your bro. You wouldn't want anyone else to have raised you.

You start to open the door a just a crack, but stop. Something doesn't feel right. Did you forget something? No, you put everything in your backpack yesterday, and you have your apple juice. Why does something feel amiss?

You feel something on your shoulder and you flinch. You spin around, and your brother is still there, his hand extended. You can't see his eyes, but you bet they are full of sadness and worry.

"What." You ask, your voice monotone as usual

"Do you want me to come down with you?" The tall blond says.

"Uh…"

You definitely did not expect that. Bro hasn't walked you to your bus since you were in third grade. Of course the first day you were on your own you decided to take the stairs for an ironic twist and you ended up in the ER. You can't say you weren't warned.

"I can stay here if you want, that's chill too." Bro shrugs, but you can tell he's a little hurt by your response.

Your stomach clenches in those stupid nervous knots. You suddenly realize you do want Dirk to come down to the lobby with you. You need some support, but you don't want to admit it. Slight problem. You don't want to look like a little kid in front of the people already on the bus. That would completely destroy your cool kid reputation.

"Uh… I… Um…" You stumble over your words unironically. Shoot.

"I get it. It's okay lil' man. I'll stay in the elevator." He flashes one of his prize winning grins at you. He really wants to come, doesn't he? You have no objections.

"Okay." You push the door open all the way and walk in the direction of the elevator.

Tape. Yellow construction tape restricts you from entering through the sliding doors.

"What the heck." You mumble.

"Oh that's right, I forgot to tell you. The elevator's broken so we have to take the stairs. Think you can handle it?" Your brother smirks at you.

"Dude are you serious? That was years ago. I think I can handle it." You smirk right back at him.

"Prove it."

"You got it."

Your name is Dave Strider, and this is the beginning of your first day of high school.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hi everyone! Here is chapter two. I have an idea of where I'm going with this, and I hope it turns out for the best! Please review and let me know what you think! If you do that please be nice. :)_

* * *

_Enter name_

You wait for the player to give you some dumb name. You half expect them not to. Always expect the unexpected.

**Dirk Strider**

See? You expected that.

Your name is Dirk Strider, and today is your little bro's first day of high school. He's the kind of kid who doesn't show his emotions much. It takes a close bond to be able to tell what's going on through that head of his, and you have that bond. It was obvious he was feeling nervous about his first encounter with his new school and future friends. You understand it can be a little intimidating, and you want to be there for him.

You suggest you go down to the lobby with him. He obviously needs brotherly support. Since you are his only brother, that means the task is up to you. To get rid of the tension, you bring up Dave's 'stairs incident' from when he was in the fourth grade. You don't know why you said that. That was a terrifying time for the both of you.

You walk behind him down the numerous flights of stairs. Living on the top floor is definitely worth the amount of exercise.

Suddenly, something yellow and squishy catches your eye. You lower your pointed anime shades just a little to get a better look at it. Is that… a plushrump? Your kokoro goes doki doki. How could you have been so careless to leave one of your precious smuppets on the stairs where it could be harmed?

A red shoe comes down upon the yellow rump at an odd angle. Your little bro obviously didn't see it there, so you swallow your anger. It's impossible to hold a grudge against someone you've known for years.

A body somersaults backwards down the stairs and a startled yelp fills your ears. Your kokoro doki doki-ing rapidly increases. You nearly have a heart attack as your little brother tumbles helplessly down the stairs. He curses loudly, and you chase after him.

"It keeps happening!" The younger Strider groans just before his head smacks against the hard floor at the bottom. His body goes limp. You shout his name and are by his side faster than any flashstep you've ever done. You cautiously move his body to an upright position and fix his crooked glasses. Your brain hardly comprehends the small crack in the right lense.

"Lil' man, can you hear me?" You say to him. You nearly have a heart attack when he doesn't respond.

"Dave, come on, say something!" You don't care who hears the panic in your voice. You don't care who sees you lose your cool. The only thing you care about is trying to stop the blood flow from your brother's forehead. A small pool has already formed on the floor, and the red is soaking through your denim jeans.

You don't care about that, though. You instantly remove your shirt and make a temporary bandage for Dave's head. You fumble through your pockets for your cell phone, but realize you left it upstairs. Crap.

The few people in the small lobby stare at you blankly. This infuriates you.

"Don't just stand there! Someone call an ambulance!" You scream. Nobody acts immediately and you panic even more. You shift your shirt so that a cleaner part of it rests against your brother's head.

"Hang in there lil' man." You mutter. You can't believe this happened again, and this time it's your fault. If that smuppet hadn't been on the stairs this never would have occurred. Oh God you think it's worse than last time. Last time he had stopped bleeding on the way to the hospital. You were able to drive him then. It wasn't as much of an emergency then as it is now.

He kept going unconscious and had to stay in the hospital for a night so the doctors could make sure nothing serious happened. Luckily he was okay. You warned him about stairs. One of your best friends fell down some stairs years ago. Who knows where he is now. English…

The sound of ambulance sirens penetrates your thoughts of the past, thank goodness. The medics rush in and dart to where you kneel in a slowly growing blood puddle. You remind yourself that head wounds tend to bleed a lot, but the adrenaline still pumps through your veins.

You allow them to take your unconscious sibling away from you and onto a stretcher. One of them speaks to you, but you don't hear her. Your mind feels like a broken TV cable connection; full of static. You keep your gaze on the two medics carrying your brother away. You stand up to go after him, but are stopped.

"We'll take him from here. Feel free to come to the hospital after you've cleaned up some, alright?" she puts her hand on your shoulder comfortingly. Normally you would have shrugged her off, but you let it go. The circumstances are different. You nod solemnly in reply.

"Would you mind telling your names for our medical records?" She asks. You should have expected that.

"Strider." You choke out.

"First names?" She questions.

"He's Dave. I'm Dirk."

"Thank you. We promise to take good care of your son." She walks back towards the vehicle.

"Brother." You call after her. "He's my brother." If she hears you, she doesn't respond.

You decide to do as she said and go back upstairs. You snatch the smuppet and take it with you so you can slash it with your katana later. As you slip an old white tshirt over your head, you realize Dave's backpack and apple juice are still at the bottom of the stairs. You'll bring his drink to him, if they'll let him have it. But not that one. You put on some sweatpants and toss the blood stained jeans onto the futon in the living room. Snatching a cold bottle of the juice from the back of the fridge hidden by sords. Why do you still have those? Only sbahj keep those things around. They're pretty much useless.

You flashstep down the stairs, taking extra care to not trip. You snatch Dave's backpack and throw the old bottle of apple juice away in the trashcan on your way out the door. Someone had cleaned up the blood, that part of the floor is now shinier and cleaner than the rest of it.

You toss your brothers backpack in the passenger seat of your red convertible. You have no idea why you brought it with you. It's only full of school supplies. Dave's bus is still in the parking lot due to the ambulance delay. You consider telling the bus driver he won't be coming to school today, but before you can do anything, the vehicle drives away. The few kids visible through the windows stare at you solemnly. They must have seen Dave as he was taken into the ambulance. Poor kids. Nobody at that age needs to witness that. Heck, nobody at your age needs to witness that. Especially if you're related to them.

Soon you arrive at the hospital. You go in through the emergency room entrance, assuming that's where Davey would be. You haven't called him Davey in forever. That stopped when he entered second grade. You stand in the short line behind a man with a little girl. The girl is crying and holding one of her arms close to her body. The line moves slowly and you grow impatient, constantly checking the clock on the wall above receptionist's desk every few seconds.

The people in front of you move to the front of the line. You hope they're quick. You need to know what happened to Dave, and you need to know now. You nearly jump out of your skin with anticipation. Five minutes later, you're at the front of the line.

"Name?" The stout woman asks you.

"Dirk Strider. I'm here to see my brother, Dave."

"Visitors go to the main office. Next," She shoos you away as if you were an annoying fly buzzing around her head.

"You don't understand, I need to see him."

"Visitors go to the main office." She repeats. "There are others waiting. Move along."

You reluctantly scoot to the side and dash across the building to the main office. Luckily, nobody else is in line. Relieved, you flashstep to the man at the desk.

"I'm here to see Strider comma Dave." You say quickly.

"I beg your pardon?" The man says with a British accent.

You repeat your sentence.

"I must check your authorization. I need your name and ID."

You put your hands into both of your sweatpants pockets. Inside are two quarters and a nickel, but that's all you find. You curse under your breath and look up at the man with an accent.

"I don't have my ID." you mutter, ashamed. How could you leave your wallet at the apartment? Sure, you were under a lot of pressure, but come on. You _never_ forget your wallet in case something like this comes up.

"We need legal identification in order for you to visit our patients. I'm sorry." He says.

"Come on. He's my little brother. I need to make sure he's okay." You lean with your hands on the desk. Behind your shades your amber eyes are wide with worry. This is entirely your fault. If he gets better you're definitely going to do something really nice for him to apologize.

_If._ What is wrong with you, Dirk? He will get well. This is why you need to see him. You need to know how he's doing, what his condition is.

The receptionist looks at you in a sympathetic manner. Normally that would bug you, but again, this isn't normal.

"I will call to his room. What is his last name?" He says with that accent of his.

"Strider." You say thickly.

"Dave?"

"Yes." You clarify. You tap your fingers on the desk nervously while he punches the buttons and listens to the dial tone.

"Hello Dr. Patterson. There is a man here who claims the your patient is his brother, but he does not have identification with him at the time. Could we send one of the medics who was at the apartment with the patient here to see if this man is who he says he is? Thank you."

"How is he?" You ask immediately after he hangs up.

"I'm not authorized to ask unless you truly are who you say you are. I believe you, but we just need to make sure. Surely you understand, Mr. Strider, is it? I'm sorry for the delay." He smiles apologetically.

You sigh and take off your hat, running your hand through your spikey hair. You realize you left the apple juice in the car. What is it with you and being so forgetful lately? You vow to yourself to not forget anything else after this moment.

The white clad woman from the ambulance steps out of an opening elevator. You immediately recognize her. Her pale pink lipstick makes her lips pop from her dark skin. Her eyes widen at the sight of you, and she smiles softly. You're too distressed to smile, so you just nod at her.

"Monique, you recognize him?" The guy with the British accent asks.

"Yes, he's the loving brother of the patient who fell down the stairs." Her smile never leaves her face. You feel your face get hot from the compliment.

"How is he." You ask hoarsely before clearing your throat.

"It's nothing serious, just blood loss and possibly a concussion. We'll be able to tell more when he's conscious. I take it you want to see him?" Monique grins at you again and your kokoro explodes from your chest. Forget English; she's great.

You look at Mr. British Guy for permission, and he nods. You follow Monique to the elevator, the softness of your sweatpants sliding against your legs. God these are great. Why don't you wear them more often? Oh, right. They aren't very good during strifes. Sure, you still won that battle, but the pants dragged you down. You gotta stay alert, gotta stay limber.

The elevator takes you and Monique up to the fifth floor, which is two below the highest floor in the hospital. The doors open up to a rectangular mirror in a golden frame on the wall in front of you. Your hair is a mess, but somehow still looks awesome. You realize you didn't put your hat back on, but decide to leave it off out of respect for the people in the building, whatever that's supposed to mean. You can't see your eyes, but you still look pretty shaken up. Mostly because of those sweatpants of yours. You don't mind it because you _are_ shaken up.

Monique smiles at you again and leads you down a hallway. She knocks on the door of room 413 upon entering.

"Dr. Patterson, this is Dirk Strider, Dave's brother." She says. The doctor turns away from Dave and holds out his hand. You shake it, and he grins at you.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, son. I'm Dr. Don Patterson. I hear Dave fell down some stairs? There must have been a lot of 'em to cause a wound like that. Did he slip on something?" He asks. You can tell he's trying to lighten the mood, but all he does is make it worse.

"Yeah. He slipped." You mumble, cringing inwardly at the memory of the yellow rump sticking out in the stairway.

"He's going to be okay." you say as if it were a fact. It is a fact. He's a Strider, and Striders always pull through.

"Yes, yes he is. You're more than welcome to stay here with him overnight. We don't know how long it will be, but he at least needs to be here a night so we can monitor him. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I understand." You pull your phone out of your pocket. Of course you remembered _that_, but not your ID.

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to turn that off while you're in here. It could interfere with some of our equipment. You're more than welcome to use it in the waiting room, though." He smiles again, and you realize his front two teeth are large and crooked. Luckily for you and little Dave, neither of you needed braces. Score one for the Striders.

"I was just turning it off." You say as you do so. You try to glace over the doctor's shoulder at your brother, but the guy is too large for you to do so without looking like an idiot. Large as in big, not as in fat.

"By all means, have a seat." The guy finally moves and gestures toward a chair by the bed. Dave lies there, looking pained even in unconsciousness. His cracked glasses are on the small table to his left. An IV is stuck in his right arm, pumping blood into his system. You feel even more terrible. You swallow those feelings and move over to the chair, sitting down. What else did they expect you to do? Dance with it? Maybe later, but only for the irony.

You hear a voice come on over the intercom. "Dr. Patterson?" it says.

"Yes?" he responds.

"You are needed in the surgery unit."

"I'll be there in a second. Thank you, Mildred." The intercom shuts off.

"I will return momentarily. If anything happens, push that green button on the wall." He rushes out of the room. You didn't even know this hospital had a surgery unit. Then again, you are new in town.

You look over at your brother. He lies on his back with his arms directly at his sides. You aren't used to seeing him in bed without being curled up with the occasional pillow on your head. You smirk at the mental image. You reach over and brush his hair across his forehead. The ends on the right side are encrusted in blood. Poor little guy.

You remind yourself he isn't little anymore. He's in _high school _now. Or at least, that's where he'd be right now had it not been for stairs. Hey, at least you warned him. Yep, you told him…

You decide you'll wait until tonight before you go home and retrieve your wallet and maybe some other things essential to life. Like some comics for Dave when he wakes up.

That's when the idea hits. You realize it's risky, considering tomorrow is the second day of school. Then again, tomorrow is Friday. Hmm… Yeah, it's definitely worth it. When the doctor comes back you duck out of the room and speed walk into the waiting room. You have a few phone calls to make.

* * *

_Notice the lack of cuss words in this story. Yeah, it's probably weird that I read Homestuck but I rarely cuss. I only have once or twice. Feel free to enter whatever word you want. Just pleeeaaaassseeee don't post what you substitute in the reviews! Ahhhh! _

_:o)_


	3. Chapter 3

"Do you think he'll be okay?"

"The doctor said we wouldn't know until he was conscious."

"Ugh I hope he wakes up soon! I miss my candy red cool kid!"

"What am I even doing here?"

"Come on Karkles, have a heart!"

"Shhhh guys, I think he's waking up!"

You wake up in bed surrounded by familiar people who look to be around your age. How old are you, again? Meh that's not important. What is important is the fact your head is killing you. What did you even do to deserve so much pain? It must have been pretty bad. You reach up and gently touch the right side of your forehead and find it bandaged. Startled, you pull your hand back down.

"What's going on? Why are you all looking at me with weird facial expressions?" You decide to ask. You need some answers.

"Your brother informed us you tripped while descending stairs and hit your head on a solid floor. We came as soon as we could." The girl with short blonde hair and the purple headband says. Her eyes are violet. You find this to be odd. Are violet eyes common? For some reason you can't remember.

In fact, you can't remember anything.

She says you have a brother. You scan the concerned faces in the room. Which one is he? Hopefully he's not the one with that grouchy scowl on his face. He doesn't look like much fun. He definitely isn't the derpy kid with rectangular glasses. Your brother would be way cooler than that. You know your brother isn't one of the two girls. You aren't stupid. Are you?

"I knew I'd get to see your eyes someday, Dave! I could always smell them!" The speaker wears red glasses and has a red cane. Is she blind? Why wouldn't you let her see your eyes? And who is Dave? Are you Dave?

"Why wouldn't I let you see my eyes? That's dumb." You scoff.

The blonde girl looks at you with a puzzled expression, like she's analyzing you. She's kind of freaky. The buck toothed derp of a kid has his eyebrows furrowed worriedly. What the heck is going on here?

"Strider." The blonde says. That's a strange thing to say in a situation like this. You stare at her blankly.

"Do you know what has happened?" She looks at you, waiting for an answer.

"Uh… no." You admit. No, you have no idea what's going on or how you even got here, and it's freaking you out.

"Can we get this over with already? I can't f****** believe I let you drag me the three hundred miles over here, Terezi!" The short, spikey haired grouch groans.

"Karkles! Be nice! How can you be so insensitive when the coolkid fell down some stairs?"

"Hehe, I warned you about those stairs, bro." The kid with the glasses grins nervously at you, probably expecting you to laugh. How is that even a good joke.

You have reached your breaking point. Explosion in 3

2

1

"Will you all shut up and tell me what the heck is going on? Who are you, who am I, and which one of you is my brother?"

"Would you look at that, even the fabulous Strider breaks down sometimes. I'm out of here." The one they call 'Karkles' walks out, the blind girl behind him begging him to stay.

"You really don't know, do you Dave?" The boy sits down in one of the chairs against the wall, never moving his gaze from you. Is he a homo for you? Gross. Not gonna happen even if you were stuck with him on a meteor floating through space for three years.

"No, I don't."

"You're Dave, I'm John, that's Rose, and Terezi and Karkat just left."

"This is bad, isn't it?"

"Yeah," He laughs nervously. "We were supposed to be in school today, but your brother called us saying it was an emergency!"

"Speaking of which, where is Mr. Strider?" The girl, Rose, says.

"Who knows? Dave, your brother is such a ninja!"

You aren't even listening. Too much pain. Ugh.

* * *

_I am sooo sorry! This chapter was super short and really sucky. Honestly, it's a miracle I even decided to add on to this so soon! I've been really busy!_

_Thank you for following favoriting and reviewing blah blah etc etc. It means a lot! :) _

_The only reason i updated was because there have been more followers lately and I wanted to let you guys know that I still plan to work on this every now and then. Please review!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry for the delay in updates. I've been busy, and didn't really know where I was going with this. Thank you for the favorites and follows! I appreiciate it~_

* * *

_Rrrrr. Rrrrr. Rrrr._

"Talk to me."

"Mr. Strider? This is Monique."

"Oh, hey. How are you?"

"I'm doing well. What about you?"

You're afraid to answer. You know you aren't okay. You're a wreck on the inside. On the outside, you try to appear as if you're handling everything well. You haven't talked to people as much lately, and when you do you don't say much.

"I'm okay." You say after what feels like forever, even though it was only a few seconds.

"I'm calling about Dave." Her tone of voice sends worry through your body. Your mouth is suddenly too dry to say anything. Your tongue feels leaden in your mouth, and you realize you haven't had anything to eat or drink since the accident.

"Dirk? Are you still there?" Her voice is sweet and smooth like honey, but soft like a pillow. A pillow covered in honey? You aren't sure whether or not that's even appealing.

"Yeah. Sorry about that." Your dehydrated tongue suddenly remembers how to form words.

"He doesn't remember anything. We don't know if this is going to be temporary, but you should come as soon as you can."

"I just pulled into the parking lot. Had some stuff to do at home. I'll see you in a few minutes, then." You hang up before she can say anything else.

Dave doesn't remember anything. What if he doesn't remember how to fight? All those strifes would have been for nothing. You've been training him for something bigger. You aren't entirely sure what it is yet, but you know something's going to happen in the future that will turn his life around. Something pokes you in the back of the brain, telling you this big thing will kill you. You have known this for a while, and you want the kid to be tough when it happens.

The British guy is at the desk again. You can't keep yourself from rolling your amber eyes behind your pointy anime shades.

"You know who I'm here for. I'm gonna go up." You tell him and flashstep to the elevator before he can stop you. You don't have time to put up with his sophisticated British crap.

Some angry little dude runs into you in the hallway.

"Watch where you're going, nooksucker!" He shouts as he tries to get around you. You place your hand on his head to stop him from moving forward.

"Chill out. What are you so mad about?"

"He's Karkles, he's always angry!" The blind chick, Terezi, appears.

"You guys seen him yet?" Your voice cracks on the last word. What the heck.

"Yes. He's pretending he can't remember anything. I don't even know what I'm doing still talking to you. I'm out of here." Karkat says.

"You realize John's dad won't drive you away without the others, right?"

"Does this face look like it cares? Let's go Terezi."

"Dirk! You smell so good! Like an orange mango smoothie!" The freak of a girl is sniffing your shoulder. You ignore her and keep moving towards the hospital room.

You knock on the door with three swift taps, and it swings open seconds later.

"We've been expecting you." Rose greets you. "We're caught in quite a dilemma."

"So I heard. By the way, Lalonde, tell your mother I say hello. Tell her to lay off the martinis." Your shades glint in the bright lights attached to the ceiling.

"Will do, although I highly doubt she will listen." She says in her usual intellectual tone.

Your little bro stares at you, obviously disoriented. They made him take his shirt off, and he has an IV dripping into his arm. Ouch. His glasses are gone. You rarely see him without them, even though you live with each other. He's a handsome little guy. You have the urge to go over and mess up his hair and tell him that just to bug him. Instead, you greet him casually.

"Sup Dave. How you feeling?"

"I don't know…" His voice his hoarse. He clears his throat, then keeps talking. "I mean, my head hurts and I have this thing in my arm, which sucks, but other than that I don't know."

"I'm sorry." You suddenly remember his friends are still in the room.

"Rose, John. Would you mind giving us some privacy? We don't want him to be embarrassed when all this is over." You say, but it's just a cover. You don't know whether or not you'll be able to keep your cool.

"Sure thing Mr. Strider! Come on Rose." You notice the traces of worry in John's voice. That kid worries about everything.

"Bro?" Davey croaks. Relief washes over you. He's starting to remember.

"I'm here, lil' man."

"No, I mean… Ha, this sounds so stupid. You're my brother?"

Keep your cool, Strider. Don't lose control. He doesn't remember you, no big deal. It's okay. Yup, everything is just peachy.

"Y-" You begin, but your voice catches as a lump in your throat forms. Why is this worse than last time? You clear your throat and try again.

"You really don't remember." That stupid throat lump really hurts.

"Not a thing. I'm sorry." He says innocently, his blood red eyes squint at you. Poor kid and his light sensitive eyes. You can't remember the last time you saw them. The last time you remember was when he shattered the pair of shades you gave him during one of your spars. Luckily you had more on hand. He was seven years old, so it didn't bother him yet.

You can't stop yourself from reaching over and pulling him into a hug, your hand running through his tangled, slightly bloody soft hair. You feel a tear leave your eye, but you don't care.

"What the-"

"This is my fault. I'm so, so sorry." A sob escapes on the second "so".

"Whoa, it's okay. You didn't mean to leave that smuppet on the stairs…" He trails off as he realizes he had remembered something.

"Oh my God." He murmurs. He hugs you back tightly.

"Don't _ever_ scare me like that again." Your quiet words are fierce with emotion.

"I never planned to. Things just happen. Not a big deal." You can feel his small shrug. He does it again. And again. Those aren't little shrugs. His body is shaking with silent sobs.

"This is stupid." You both say at the same time. Coincidence? You think not.

There's a soft knocking, and you remember you left the door open. Dang it.

"Am I interrupting something?" A female voice says. Monique's voice, to be exact.

"No, no you're fine." You stand up and take your hat off. You have absolutely no idea why you did that.

"I came to check his blood pressure again. If everything is okay then you'll be able to go home tonight." She smiles with her perfectly straight white teeth. Beautiful.

What? No, you didn't just think that. Nope.

Moving on.

You must have been fantasizing, because the next thing you know, Monique is finished taking Dave's blood pressure, and everything is okay. She tells you to prepare to leave within the next two hours. She leaves you two alone.

"Dirk?" He hasn't called you that in forever. A rush of feels nearly knocks you over.

"What's up?"

"Can you hand me my shades? I feel really stupid, because I remember everything now. I feel horrible."

You take his shades from the table and give them to him. "No worries. You'll start school next week, and you'll already have ladies swarming you in sympathy. You'll be fine."

"Yeah."

You're so glad he's okay.

* * *

_This isn't the last chapter, I do plan to add at least one more. Please review and let me know what you think! _


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey guys! I really need to update this story more. Anyway, thank you for reading it and being supportive and such! Happy holidays! _

_Also, I'm sorry for any typos that haven't already been fixed._

* * *

Your name is Dave Strider, and you're embarrassed as hell.

All of them saw you without your shades. Every single one of them. Sure, you had to take twhen some idiot (John) knocked them off your face with a baseball bat in PE. Your shades shattered like glass. You don't plan to be a catcherhem off again. Not ever.

It took you about an hour to get back to the apartment. Did your head still hurt? Yes. It hurt like crazy. Did you tell anyone? Of course not. Why should they have to worry? You're fine. Except for the fact you keep blacking out, you're fine.

You had woken up in your bed later that evening. You didn't remember walking from the car, so you assumed Bro carried you. This is slightly embarrassing, but you don't care. You're too tired to care.

So here you are. Laying in bed while wearing the softest pajama pants _ever. _They're so amazingly comfortable, you sometimes wear them while strifing. Action pajamas, you call them. Nobody else knows that though, not even Bro.

The clock reads 8:15 in the afternoon. Talking on the phone to someone, Dirk's voice carries down the hallway. Something about a cupcake? Your brain must still be out of wack or something, because you've never heard your brother say "cupcake".

Your head throbs dully in pain. The doctors told you to keep it bandaged for the next week and to put some medicine on it every 12 hours. Fun.

You roll on your side and grab your phone. 24 messages. Well aren't you popular.

**From: John Egbert**

_hey Dave! hope youre feeling better. Rose Karkat Terezi and I are staying in town for the weekend so we can hang out. go to the movies or something. you up for it?_

**From: John Egbert **

_scratch that. no good movies are showing :B_

**From: John Egbert**

_we could go swimming!_

**From: John Egbert**

_dude, where are you? _

Four of the other messages are from John, all basically saying the same thing.

**From: Rose Lalonde**

_Hello Strider. I anticipate your return to good health. John has most likely already told you, but we plan to hang out. We await your further input._

**From: Terezi Pyrope**

_H3Y D4V3! STOP B31NG S1CK 4LR34DY! :[_

_1 M1SS YOU! T3XT M3 B4CK WH3N YOU C4N_

The other messages are from family members, and one from your phone service provider. Okay then.

You exhale and curl up into a comfy ball. Your shades are on the table beside you, which is perfectly okay. It doesn't bother you if Dirk sees your eyes. He's kind of the only person you can completely trust.

Do you respond to the texts? Absolutely. You're not a guy to leave people hanging.

**Recipient: John Egbutt **(You decided to change his last name in your contacts. He doesn't have a butt, so it's ironic.)

yeah we can definitely go swimming if you want a pool full of strider head blood

**Recipient: Rose Lalonde**

thanks lalonde

sorry but i dont know if im up for hanging out with yall

**Recipient: Terezi Pyrope**

sup tez

im not really as sick as i am injured

not that youd understand that considering youre never either of them

You close your ruby colored eyes for a split second, and end up falling asleep before your friends even respond. At least, you say you fell asleep. In reality you tried to sit up, and ended up blacking out. You need food, but you can't get any because you're asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

_Here, have another chapter within the same day, since both are extremely short! _

* * *

"Eyy lil' man! Glad to see you're awake. You feelin okay?"

His glasses: off. His hair: rumpled. His shirt: gone.

"Yeah I'm cool." Squinting against the light, he slumps onto the couch.

"You need anything lil bro?" You ask. He still seems a little off, and he has to go back to school tomorrow. Yikes.

"Got any AJ?"

"Is that even a question?" You smoothly toss him a bottle, which he fails to catch. Yeah, he's going to need some time to get back to normal. You watch him as he bends over to snatch the bottle of liquid off the floor. Before you can blink, he's on the floor.

Uhh… what?

You give it a couple seconds to see if he'll jump up, tell you it was a joke. He was just messing with you.

He doesn't move.

Instantly, you're by his side. You have no idea what happened, but the kid is unconscious. What the heck.

Should you call 911? Or assess the situation yourself?

"Dave. Yo, lil' man, wake up. Please?"

No movement. Pulling a thermometer out of your pocket(why was that there in the first place?), you swiftly take his temperature. It's normal. You turn your back to get a cool cloth. Wait, he doesn't have a fever. Why would you do that?

Right, okay. A warm cloth, then? Damn it Strider, that doesn't make any sense either.

After a few seconds of internal argument, you decide to drive Dave to the hospital. Just as you go to heft the 14 year old up, his eyes flutter open. You exhale in relief, and pull him close in a loving embrace.

"Did I pass out again?" He asks.

Again.

Again?!

"What do you mean by 'again'?"

"I guess I forgot to tell you. Whenever I'd sit up for too long I'd start to black out or something. No big deal."

He pulls away from your embrace.

"No big deal? Dave, you need to tell me these things. It's probably just a lack of nutrients. I'll take you back to your room and make you some soup, deal?"

"K."

He doesn't object to you carrying him back to his room, so you do so. Just like in the old days when he was just a little dude. Good times.

And thus, you return to the kitchen to make the chicken noodle soup you promised. If he's going back to school tomorrow, he can't be passing out left and right.

Erased clean like a blank slate, it's as if all thoughts are erased from your head as you make the soup. The empty chasm makes time seem as if it goes by faster, and before you know it, your feet are carrying you to the room of your little brother. It's a miracle you don't spill the stuff.

He's all tuckered out when you arrive. You know he isn't unconscious because he rolls over all of the sudden, nearly swiping his glasses off of the table. You put the soup on the table, and consider putting the glasses where he likes them to be: on his face. But if he had wanted the glasses, he had would have said something, or at least put them on himself.

You decide to do him a favor and chance his head bandage for him. Somehow, he still looks cool with it on. It doesn't wrap around his head, but it's more like a super absorbent white square. All the while, the kid doesn't wake up.

You just hope he'll be okay at school tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 7

_I feel like the chapters keep getting shorter and shorter. I am so sorry for that!_

* * *

**Walk down the stairs without tripping over a plushrump**: check.

**Avoid eye contact with people on bus even though eye contact is nearly impossible because of your shades**: check

**Get to school without getting into a car wreck**: check

**Open your locker on the first try**: almost check. The lock stuck, okay? Only took you three times.

**Go to your first class**: in progress

History is your first hour, and it's on the other side of the building. Joy. You linger in the hallways on the way there, considering you have a bountiful amount of time. You've always got time on your side.

As you walk, kids stare at you. To be more specific, they stare at your sunglasses. They either think you're either blind, an idiot, trying to be cool, or a Blind Idiot Trying To Be Cool. This is going to be a long school year…

Feeling slightly nauseas from The Happening, you walk into your classroom and instantly go to the teacher's desk like a good student. He's a football coach: the fun kind. He tells you that you haven't really missed much, and that he hopes you're healing okay. He tells you there isn't a seating arrangement yet, which is awesome because you hate those for the most part. When asked to take off your shades, you hand him the note from the doctor. Your eyes are sensitive to light, and you're sensitive about your eyes.

Irony.

With ten minutes till the bell, there's only one other student in the classroom. A girl. She flinches away when your shades tilt toward her direction. God her dark hair is long. It's pretty, though. You don't want to do this. You don't want to socialize. You want to have friends, but you don't feel like talking.

But you're new. You are a newbie. Besides, you have no idea what the hell is going on at this place. You finally decide to go over and sit by her to get the low-down on the school.

"Hey." Without thinking about it, you subconsciously give her a sharp nod in your usual greeting. Behind her round Harry Potter-ish glasses, her eyes dart toward you.

"Hello! My name is Jade Harley. You must be Dave!" She puts out her hand, which you hesitantly shake. You rarely shake hands with anyone.

"Yeah. Dave Strider. Moved here from the other side of Texas." You say casually.

"I've lived here my whole life." She grins toothily at you. Yeahh she's gonna need braces.

"I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry. You're okay now though, right?" Her expression is one of genuine worry, yet she doesn't even know you. It's confusing.

"I'm pulling through. I'll be fine. Could use some friends though. It takes me forever to open up to people." Why did you just admit that. To a stranger, no less. Dang it, Strider.

"Well… Maybe we could be friends if you want to! Maybe I could get permission to show you around to your classes. What do you have next hour?"

"Science."

"Which teacher?"

"Noir." You specify.

"Ohhh okay. I'm in his class too! But it's during third period instead of second. Do you have your schedule with you?"

It just so happens that you do. You allow her to look at it just before you remember that your locker combination is still on it. Crap.

But going off of first impressions, Jade seems too naïve to do something like that. You hope.

"Great!" She suddenly exclaims. "We have first, fourth, and sixth periods together, and the same lunch!"

"We do? Sweet." You can't stop yourself from grinning at her. Her happiness is contagious.

"You want to stop by the office after class to see if I have permission to show you where your classes are on your first day? And maybe tomorrow if you need it. I doubt you will though. I bet you're smart." She hasn't stopped smiling since you sat down next to her. How do some people manage to be so optimistic?

"That would be great. Thanks Jade, I really appreciate it." You try to put all of your sincerity into your voice. All of it.

"No problem! If you ever need anything, just ask me."

Catching you off guard, the bell rings for class to begin.

When did the other students come in? You were so engulfed in your first conversation with your first possible friend to notice.

Jade was right: You hadn't missed anything in history. In fact, they only started reading in the textbook today, and you were there to join them. Throughout the class period, Jade kept glancing over at you and giving you encouraging smiles, to which you would return with either a head nod or a smirk. Sometimes she would roll her eyes at something the teacher said, to which you'd respond by raising an eyebrow above your darkened lense before giving her a half smile.

Yeah, this is undeniably a good start to your day.

* * *

_Thank you for all the new favorites and follows! I really appreciate it, and it kind of helps give me motivation to want to write more. :)_

_Let me know what you think!_


	8. Message from the author

_Hey guys. This isn't going to be a chapter update, but more of an author update. I know people don't really look forward to these. In fact, I'm one of those people. You'd rather read another chapter in the story._

_Especially since I haven't updated since January..._

_Sorry about that. School has been keeping me busy. I think I finally adapted to the town though. Heh._

_Anyway, I'm not really sure if I'll get around to finishing this. I'm not very active in the Homestuck fandom anymore. I don't have a very good explanation for why, and I promise it isn't just the hiatus. The hiatus has very little to do with my inactivity in this fandom._

_I would like this story to be finished though. _

_If anyone would like to take over, please let me know through the Private Messaging system, and I will give you more details on how this is going to work out. You will be given credit for what you write._

_I may even allow different people to write different upcoming chapters._

_If this is something that interests you, please let me know! _

_I'm reallllly sorry for the lack of updates. You know how life is. _

_Thank you for taking the time to read the story and this message! I love you all! _

_~Clarity24_


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